


Mistyfoot’s Mourning

by SnowMercury



Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, F/F, F/M, Gen, Not a happy end!, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:08:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22299838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowMercury/pseuds/SnowMercury
Summary: Mistyfoot experiences a lot of death and loss throughout her life.(all canon deaths also happen here)(you can read up to the first asterisk for just some cute misty/spotted content)
Relationships: Greystripe/Silverstream (background), Mistyfoot/Blackclaw, Mistyfoot/Spottedleaf
Comments: 1
Kudos: 18





	Mistyfoot’s Mourning

“Are you sure this is a good idea, Spottedleaf?” Mistyfoot looked up at her girlfriend, eyes concerned. The tortoiseshell was dangling over the edge of sunningrocks, dipping her legs into the river, getting acclimated to the temperature.

“Of course I am! I said I wanted to learn how to swim, didn’t I? That means I have to get my  _ paws wet _ . Unless you can teach me how to swim through the air like a bird.” Her tone is light and joking, and she smiles at Mistyfoot, and for a moment Misty could’ve sworn the river had knocked her paws out from under her like when she was a kit. However many times she talked to her mate, it seemed like every single time she was overcome with a feeling of love and appreciation and wanting to show it, but having no idea how- like she was utterly inexperienced. 

“Well, I could try, but not even a RiverClanner can swim through the air. I guess it’s better to learn now than to try to learn in the middle of leaf-bare.” Misty pauses, touching her nose to Spottedleaf’s shoulder, reassuring herself. “I just… Worry. Usually we learn to swim as a whole group, make a whole day of it. The warriors come out as a whole group almost, every one who has an apprentice, and that’s even with growing up near the water, playing in it.”

“Well,” Spottedleaf starts, as she slides into the water fully, “I’m here with you, aren’t I? The  _ strongest _ warrior in RiverClan. But really, you don’t have to worry about me. I can take care of myself. I know what I’m getting into.” She glides over to Mistyfoot, brushing against her. “And if I didn’t, I know how to ask for help. I appreciate it, but don’t overstress yourself.”

Mistyfoot slowly blinks, dipping her head slightly with a small laugh. “You’re right. Sorry about that-thank you, I mean.”

Spottedleaf purrs as she looks up at Mistyfoot, smiling. “Now, where do we start?”

_ Oh, I love her _ , Mistyfoot thinks as she begins, “With learning how to float. You want to completely relax into the water……”

  
  


*

Days later, Mistyfoot heard about Spottedleaf’s death at the next Gathering. It had been a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. She had been murdered protecting kits from Brokenstar’s lackey, and Brokenstar had been deposed. WindClan was returned to the forest, and many were happy in ShadowClan especially, grateful to ThunderClan for helping them return to their home in a world where the elders were cared for, the kits allowed to be young. WindClan was grateful for the return of their home.

RiverClan had nothing to be grateful for. And she didn’t want anything to be grateful for. ThunderClan had failed her already, she thought. 

And if she left early, nobody was any the wiser.

  
  


*

Learning of her best friend’s death, too, was not easy. To learn that it was because she was having a relationship with a ThunderClanner and died during kitting did not add any favors. Even if she was told by one of the ThunderClanners who had helped save her kits, it wasn’t any easier to hear. 

_ Why didn’t you tell me? _ she thought when she saw Silverstream’s body.  _ If you had told me, if you had told us, told RiverClan, would we have been able to have Mudfur help you? Would he have been able to tell things were going wrong faster than an apprentice, known what to do? _

But, it was out of her control. Another death out of her control. Caused on ThunderClan territory. Greypool had talked to her, they and Stonefur had mourned Oakheart, but that and Spottedleaf and Silverstream all led her to feel like ThunderClan territory was cursed, somehow. 

She had almost no tears left to cry with when she mourned with Crookedstar and Stormfur.

*

When she goes with Fireheart to take Greypool’s body back to camp, she can smell ThunderClan on her. Not Fireheart, or Greystripe, but another cat. She can’t do anything about it, not now, maybe not ever- recognizing one cat scent among many is hard to do, especially with no familiarity. 

Greypool’s scent is familiar. It’s familiar, but growing cold, starting to die long after Greypool has. Stonefur still has tears left, but Mistyfoot is numb. 

She sits vigil throughout the whole night.

*

Maybe she doesn’t believe Bluestar because Greypool’s scent is still on her mind. The unknown ThunderClanner is still on her mind. Maybe she threatens to kill her, Stormfur at her side, feeling the same anger, because it feels like this almost stranger has just torn up their mother’s grave and spat on her, has cursed her name in StarClan and desecrated her memory. And so soon after her death, to claim that? To claim that Greypool wouldn’t have told them something like that?

Still. Some small corner of her is relieved when Fireheart defends Bluestar. But she doesn’t pay it much attention. It’s probably not important anyways.

*

She looked down at Bluestar, having realized moments ago that she was her mother. That she had another sibling she had never met. And, leaning into Stonefur, Mistyfoot felt numb- unable to think, speak, or breathe, unable to even look at the others there, gaze stuck to Bluestar like a fly in tree sap. Even if it was a lie, after losing both of her other parents so soon after each other, maybe it would be kinder to herself to believe it.

It had been by complete happenstance. If she and Stonefur hadn’t been by the river, they wouldn’t have known, wouldn’t have been there to help Fireheart. They’d have never had this moment with Bluestar.

If she stays there long after Bluestar has stopped moving, only those there are any the wiser. We will not know.

*

“I’m worried about this Tigerstar in ShadowClan. ThunderClan has been saying some… Worrying things about what he wants to do. Unite the forest and all that, but… More than that.” Stonefur starts, laying next to his sister. Mistyfoot looks up, tail curled around her napping kits. 

“In what way?” Mistyfoot asks, not so much because she is worried, but because that is what one asks in response. She’s had trouble feeling things like being worried, or happy, or sad or angry. 

Stonefur looks to her kits, frowning. “That he hates halfclanners. That he murdered Redtail, and Oakheart to go with it. That he tried to murder Bluestar.”

She curls tighter around her kits, something cold curling in her stomach. “And he’s gone to talk to Leopardstar. They’re discussing something in her den as we speak. Do you think…”

“He wouldn’t risk attacking her, not in an enemy camp. Someone would hear.” Stonefur says, but that does little to assay his own fears or hers. 

Mistyfoot looks down to her kits. “That’s not what I’m worried about.”

  
  


*

One of her children didn’t make it past kithood. ‘Sometimes kittens just aren’t strong enough,’ Mudfur had said. Mistyfoot didn’t see how. Perchkit was as strong as any other kit, she had thought. Sure, he was sensitive to the cold, he was usually the last to realize when it was time to nurse, he took longer to respond- but it had seemed  _ thoughtful _ . Like he was thinking about what to do; tentative, but not weak. 

Had she misread the signs? Was it her fault? Or was it just… Another accident. Another happenstance thing, something she couldn’t control. She pushed her thoughts away; she had three more kits to worry about.

*

There were times when she thought about Blackclaw. About how much she despised him. 

He had stood there, watching. Stonefur had stood over Featherkit and Stormkit, weak and sick and starved, glaring defiantly at Darkstripe, managing to beat him even. And Blackclaw stood aside.

He had stood aside, done nothing while Mistyfoot had to be held back from interfering when Blackfoot was brought into the ring. She had never cursed her name before, but if she had been able to, she would have wiped every cat from existence who had her suffix if it meant this cursed cat,  _ following orders _ , had never been born. He had  _ volunteered _ , so eager to kill children. 

She had watched as her brother, still vibrant and full of life despite his situation, was ripped open in front of all; wasn’t allowed to even move forward and say goodbye. Wasn’t allowed to groom his fur for one last time, wasn’t allowed to help him look nice for his journey to StarClan. His body was left to rot at the bottom of the bone pile like he was worthless, not even buried. 

She had never liked Blackclaw. He was just someone who had made her feel  _ something _ , anything. Better anger and mild dislike than emptiness. 

And if she cried in her nest that night, curled around her children; apprentices now, then that was a secret between her and them. If she told them stories of her childhood, of catching fish and sunning under bright sunbeams on warm rocks, that is a secret between her and them. And if she started to feel something once again, if her kits saw her shocked out of her stupor, if they all spoke about how much they hated Tigerstar and Darkstripe and Blackfoot (and Blackclaw, although he wasn’t mentioned, only thought in Mistyfoot’s mind), well. That is a secret between her and them. 

If she recognized Tigerstar’s scent now, from the strange one on Greypool’s body. Well. What good does it do her now?

*

“I’m sorry about your brother.” Leopardstar said. Mistyfoot glared at her, cold impartial anger turning her veins a chillingly ice cold. 

“Are you?” Mistyfoot spoke, venom dripping. “Are you sorry about my children, about Primrosepaw and Pikepaw, starved and sick each by your pact with Tigerstar? Are you sorry for Featherkit and Stormkit, having to live through that? Are you sorry for Reedpaw, who will never know his grandmas or grandpa because of that monster, who will grow up alone, who won’t be able to go on patrols and hunt with his uncle? Are you sorry for ordering RiverClanners to stand by, to let this happen?”

Leopardstar opens her mouth, holds it for a moment, and closes it, looking away. 

“No. Look at me.” Mistyfoot says, standing now. Leopardstar looks back up, meeting her eyes. “Are you sorry for watching his death? For letting him be tossed aside like a piece of rotted freshkill? For letting him be treated worse than a piece of meat, given less respect than a mouse? I want to know,” her voice has become a deep hiss, bordering on a growl now, “ _ exactly _ what you are sorry for.”

Leopardstar is near tears now.  _ Good _ , Mistyfoot thinks,  _ she’s starting to understand what she’s done to my family _ .

There are more moments of silence before Leopardstar finds her voice. 

“I am. For all of that and for thinking any of it was a good idea. I wanted… I wanted RiverClan to survive. I thought if we teamed up with him, he wouldn’t… But in the end, I caused Stonefur’s death, Pikepaw’s death, Primrosepaw’s death, each as surely as if I had slitted their throats myself. RiverClan didn’t survive, because even if only one of us had died, we would have been feeling their loss for the rest of our existence.” She takes a breath, sitting up taller. “I want to offer you the deputyship. Not because I think you’ll keep me in line, or because I want to give you a gift to apologize. Leadership is hard, it wouldn’t be a gift. And even if it were, nothing I could do could make up for what I have taken from you. I think your perspective of RiverClan, your value on every life within it, will mean you’ll never leave one of RiverClan behind. You’d be a good leader. A great one, even.”

Mistyfoot nods. “I would accept, if I was able to. But I don’t have an apprentice.”

Leopardstar nods. “Yes, you do. Her name will be Featherpaw.”

“Then I accept. But don’t expect this to be forgiveness.”

“Of course not. I don’t expect forgiveness for what I’ve done to you, ever. I’ll just… Not let history repeat itself.”

*

She spent time with Featherpaw, time with Reedpaw. He earned his warrior name, Reedwhisker, and she was there, cheering with the rest of the clan; if she noticed how they couldn’t meet her eyes, how they cheered harder than they had for other warrior ceremonies, almost with a sense of desperation and wanting forgiveness, she didn’t make a big deal of it. It was a celebration.

The three of them would go on patrols, go fishing together, lounged on warm rocks on the riverbank, played in the reeds. And her heart started to heal. Stormpaw would come along too, sometimes, but just as often he would wander off on his own or would go with his own mentor.

And if she cheered just as loudly for Feathertail’s ceremony as she did for Reedwhisker, as loud as any mother for a child, well. Who could fault her for that?

  
  


*

“Are you alright? Where’s Feathertail?” she asks the moment she sees Stormfur again. She almost starts to shiver- the foliage has been being cut down again and again, torn apart and leaving the land sparse and free for wind to rampage through. 

Stormfur looks up at her, expression downcast. Reedwhisker, standing next to Mistyfoot, gasps sharply, turns away. 

“She didn’t make it.” And then he starts to explain something, to continue speaking, but something inside Mistyfoot has already fallen and broken. But not broken- melted, dissolved in the same way as a soft metal within acid. What she has forged out of hardship is gone once again. 

And if Reedwhisker and her and Stormfur stay up late, not talking but completely silent, (or may as well have been silent to Mistyfoot, who can’t even speak, can’t even start to talk about what has happened, can’t even let herself listen to their stories and tales and what they loved about Feathertail) well. 

That is a secret she can keep. 

  
  


*

  
  


When she follows Leopardstar on the Great Journey, watches how she says farewell to Mudfur, watches the pain she can so clearly tell the leader is hiding, Mistyfoot nearly says  _ Good _ .  _ She’s starting to understand what I went through.  _ But then another part just breaks, because even this farewell to her parent is so much better than what Mistyfoot got. Because even though she caused so much of Mistyfoot’s hurt, what good will it do to have even more hurt in the world, hurt that isn’t even enough to help her understand and hurt that only reminds Mistyfoot of a pain she’s buried and hopes to never dig up again? 

So if she looks away and lets Leopardstar keep some of her secrets of Sasha and Hawkpaw and Mothpaw and Mudfur, then that is what she does. 

  
  


*

One day, Mistyfoot is called on to be leader. She asks Mothwing to come with her to receive her lives, and ensuingly realizes that Mothwing doesn’t believe in StarClan. 

Mistyfoot casts her aside angrily, demoting her from Medicine Cat. Mistystar comes back, shaken from seeing all these cats she’s seen killed or known were murdered, seeing them awake and well and happy. She sees a moth coming out of a chrysalis, and ruminates on what this means for her and for the clan, on what it means for Mothwing. And Mistystar reinstates Mothwing to her former position. 

She knows what it’s like to go against the grain. And she can’t make Mothwing believe. She can only admit that despite that, Mothwing makes a pretty good healer.

  
  


*

Blackclaw dies eventually. Old age, in his sleep. Mistystar thinks about how the end doesn’t come only for those she loves, but for everybody, including her enemies. It’s a strange comfort, to be sure, to know that life ends for everybody. 

But she still has work to do. She still has cats to protect, a RiverClan to keep safe. And she’s confident that her son will protect the clan after she is gone; he remembers Tigerstar, remembers the bone pile, remembers his family. She trusts his judgement, or she wouldn’t have made him deputy. 

And now all that remains is to wait.


End file.
